I still need @Sanity43217 and @RumikoOhara to DM me, please. @Shadow Dragon, did I send the link to the right account?
Entlein Member
Not a duck
as far as I can tell
STATUS:
No lives matter until black lives matter
4 yrs ago
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- Entlein 5 yrs ago
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4 yrs ago
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No lives matter until black lives matter
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I'm making roles based on characters, so if your character doesn't have a claimed color, sorry in advance
Jasper and I have been messaging about a way to do side-conversations, like the one that needs to happen between J.R. and Reagan. I'll be setting up a Discord server with him as moderator. Instead of risking someone outside of the group getting the link and breaking in, would y'all DM me? I have a few of you on Discord, but for those I don't, please shoot me a message on here!
Nice! Mine's twelve. I have no experience in it, so you'll have to forgive me when I goof up on the language 😅
@Shadow Dragon my little brother's a green belt!
sorry for the wait! Had a lot of stuff to write lol
Darya follows the various explanations of pantheons carefully, mentally taking notes that she would transcribe later. She inclines her head in acknowledgement of Tony's explanation of the hosts, muttering a quiet "thanks" as she peers down the hallway he had indicated. With a glance at the boy wielding the scythe, she heads down the hallway. She turns into the farthest bedroom and closes the door quietly.
The bed looks inviting, but Darya lays her bag on the bed, unrolls a mat, and sits on the floor. She pulls out a notebook and jots down her understanding of the pantheons, then returns the book to the pack. There's a lot of them, she thinks, stretching her muscles out slowly. She works through a gentle yoga routine, re-stretches, and slips into bed. Her sleep comes easily, uninterrupted by dreams.
When Tony comes around to gather everyone in the morning, Darya is stretching again, a mostly drained glass of cranberry juice on the floor next to her. She follows him to the training room and listens as he lists the martial arts. She decides to learn Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, interested in its submission holds. "Are we allowed to watch the others as they train?" she asks Tony. "I'd like to get a general idea of each style, even if I won't be able to practice them."
~
Reagan startles at the tap, grabbing J.R.'s wrist as she pulls away. Recognition flashes across their face, and they release it with an apologetic grin. "Okay?" they murmur back, a little confused. The discussion turns to the other pantheons and gods, so Reagan allows their attention to wax in and out of the conversation. Tony points out the left hallway, but when he leaves for the library, Reagan follows him to get a better idea of the layout. They gape openly at the size of the library, wandering between the rows. Reagan grabs a book at random and returns to the bedroom hallway. They claim the room closest to the library and throw their bag on the floor haphazardly. The book is set on the bed with far more care. Reagan throws open the cabinet eagerly, pulls out a soft pair of linen pants, and shucks everything else quickly. They crow triumphantly at the perfect fit and slide into the bed, opening the book eagerly.
It's in Egyptian.
They close the book, set it on the nightstand, and turn over.
Reagan startles awake, accustomed to the routine of Camp Half-Blood. They change and pull out a meal bar, then reopen the book from last night. It's unintelligible, but this isn't the first language they've had to struggle to understand. They pull out a pen and notebook, jotting down symbols and their guesses at possible meanings. When Tony comes around to lead the group to the training room, Reagan follows quickly, stuffing the notes and their collapsed bo staff into a camera bag.
As Tony lists the different arts available, Reagan perks up at the mention of taekwondo. Once Tony seems unoccupied, they approach him with a questioning grin. "Hey! So, I have a yellow belt in taekwondo. My dad had me learn it for a few years, before I went to camp. Do the, uh, the-" he fishes for the word Tony had used. "Training dummies? Can they compensate for what I already know?" he asks.
The bed looks inviting, but Darya lays her bag on the bed, unrolls a mat, and sits on the floor. She pulls out a notebook and jots down her understanding of the pantheons, then returns the book to the pack. There's a lot of them, she thinks, stretching her muscles out slowly. She works through a gentle yoga routine, re-stretches, and slips into bed. Her sleep comes easily, uninterrupted by dreams.
❧Next Day❧
When Tony comes around to gather everyone in the morning, Darya is stretching again, a mostly drained glass of cranberry juice on the floor next to her. She follows him to the training room and listens as he lists the martial arts. She decides to learn Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, interested in its submission holds. "Are we allowed to watch the others as they train?" she asks Tony. "I'd like to get a general idea of each style, even if I won't be able to practice them."
~
Reagan startles at the tap, grabbing J.R.'s wrist as she pulls away. Recognition flashes across their face, and they release it with an apologetic grin. "Okay?" they murmur back, a little confused. The discussion turns to the other pantheons and gods, so Reagan allows their attention to wax in and out of the conversation. Tony points out the left hallway, but when he leaves for the library, Reagan follows him to get a better idea of the layout. They gape openly at the size of the library, wandering between the rows. Reagan grabs a book at random and returns to the bedroom hallway. They claim the room closest to the library and throw their bag on the floor haphazardly. The book is set on the bed with far more care. Reagan throws open the cabinet eagerly, pulls out a soft pair of linen pants, and shucks everything else quickly. They crow triumphantly at the perfect fit and slide into the bed, opening the book eagerly.
It's in Egyptian.
They close the book, set it on the nightstand, and turn over.
☤Next Day☤
Reagan startles awake, accustomed to the routine of Camp Half-Blood. They change and pull out a meal bar, then reopen the book from last night. It's unintelligible, but this isn't the first language they've had to struggle to understand. They pull out a pen and notebook, jotting down symbols and their guesses at possible meanings. When Tony comes around to lead the group to the training room, Reagan follows quickly, stuffing the notes and their collapsed bo staff into a camera bag.
As Tony lists the different arts available, Reagan perks up at the mention of taekwondo. Once Tony seems unoccupied, they approach him with a questioning grin. "Hey! So, I have a yellow belt in taekwondo. My dad had me learn it for a few years, before I went to camp. Do the, uh, the-" he fishes for the word Tony had used. "Training dummies? Can they compensate for what I already know?" he asks.
nice
Darya's motto is: "Fuck bitches, get money"
who knows what the future may bring? 😊
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